


Love in the time of war

by laRouge



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M, Mercenaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 15:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laRouge/pseuds/laRouge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love, affection, they’re hindrances. You can’t kill the one you love; if the one you love is killed, you lose your focus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love in the time of war

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction ever for the Kurobas fandom, so I'm a bit nervous about it. I just hope it doesn't suck too much.   
> I hope you enjoy it just as much I did while I was writing it~

There was a time when they were friends. 

Akashi remembers, of course; he can’t forget anything, as well as he can see the whole of the future unfolding in front of his eyes, as he watches soldiers dying on the battlefield. 

He doesn’t bother telling the man on his left that a bullet is coming; he just steps aside to avoid the second one, the one that’s aiming for his heart. The screams of the dying man fade in the background noise, as he walks away. His men will bring him the one that pulled the trigger, he knows.

It turns out that he’s a young boy from Shutoku, the sniper. Akashi recognizes him after a moment, his dichromatic eyes twitching with the smallest smile.

“You’re a friend of Shintarou, aren’t you?” he says, accurately choosing a knife from the tablecloth on his side. The kid doesn’t say anything, but his breath quickens at the mention of the name and that’s enough. Akashi smiles, picking up the thinnest blade. “Bring him my affection, then.”

This time, the screams don’t fade. Akashi enjoys any second of it.

*

Even if they were the most famous mercenaries of the region, Midorima Shintarou of the Kiseki no Sedai chose not to fight, not again. Too much blood, too many things that he can’t control. Shutoku’s generals didn’t accept it immediately, but he’s as good as a doctor as he was as a sniper, so they can’t really complain. There has been a neat decrease in the casualties, since Midorima joined them. So far, so good.

Even Midorima’s happy, this way. He deeply enjoys the feeling of being able to save someone, the scalpel cutting flesh to heal, not to hurt, the neat wrapping of unstained bandages across chests and arms, drugs to ease pain and the fulfilling feeling he gets when they start walking again.

There’s a moment when his resolution falters, however; it’s when the General Ootsubo takes Takao to the infirmary, his back and chest a bloody mess, his breath ragged and uneven as he tries to grasp his arm.

“I’m sorry, Shin-chan,” Takao manages to say, before losing consciousness. Midorima’s fists are clenched to his side. He can recognize the touch, the long and cruel kiss of blades. Akashi’s hand is evident all over Takao’s body.

“It’s me who should be sorry, Takao,” he mutters, bending forward to kiss his forehead now that he can’t tease him about it. He straightens up after a moment, a resolute look on his face. “I’ll leave him to your care, then,” he says to the other medical officers, leaving. “I have something to do.”

Midorima picks up his rifle again, that day. He closes his eyes, swallow any remorse and start killing again, man after man. They don’t see him coming, they can’t see him coming. Akashi trained him too well to be seen by mere soldiers. 

It’s his doom, in the end. Even Akashi, this time, can’t see Midorima coming.

*

“Midorima Shintarou started fighting again.”

Kasamatsu’s voice is dry, matter-of-factly. Kise looks up to him for a moment and then averts his gaze.

“That’s a shame,” he says, not turning to meet the eyes of his general. He picks up his gun, securing it to his side, and then ponders about the relevance of bringing a rifle. He doesn’t feel Kasamatsu coming closer until he doesn’t feel his hands on his shoulders, forcing him to turn until he can see his face.

“Don’t play games with me, Kise,” Kasamatsu growls, his fingers digging painfully in Kise’s shoulders. He’s shorter than him, but in his eyes there’s a stern look, something that speaks power and control and Kise can’t help but submit to him as he always do. He sits down without complaining, waiting for the questions coming. 

It’s not the usual scolding, however. Kasamatsu drops the menacing look after a moment, a caring light in his eyes as he kneels down too, resting his hands on top of Kise’s knees. 

“I’m worried about you,” he says, a grumpy look on his face, as if he wasn’t accustomed to smile anymore. Only Kise can smile even in the time of war. Only Kise can’t be stained by the cruelty and the immorality of that stupid war. Kasamatsu knows; Kasamatsu want him to be safe, for his sake as well as Kajou’s. 

And Kise smiles again, gentle and calm, his hands that brushed for a moment over Kasamatsu’s and then leaves. 

“Don’t worry about me, Kachimatsu,” he says, getting up. “And don’t worry about Midorimacchi as well.”

There’s only one person that Kise fears deeply, and Kasamatsu knows it. That’s why he prays never to lose sight of him when they fight against Toho’s soldiers.

And that’s exactly what happens, of course. The only one moment that Kasamatsu is not on Kise’s side, too busy facing Toho’s Imayoshi, that’s when Aomine finds him. 

*

He doesn’t kill Kise, in the end. 

Imayoshi doesn’t ask Aomine anything, when they return to their camp. He doesn’t ask why he didn’t kill Kaijou’s ace, Kise of the Kiseki no Sedai. He knows they were friends, in their previous life. Now, he just wonders if he’ll ever be able to walk again, after Aomine shot him in the knees. Twice.

Aomine knows no mercy, after all. It’s no mercy to spare him his life when it means being taken as a hostage. Imayoshi is in part scared and in part proud of his ace’s behaviour. 

Kasamatsu comes the day after, in the early morning. He walks to Imayoshi’s tent, kneels down in front of him and says, “Let’s make a deal”. There’s a look, in his eyes, that’s is pure hatred and pride, so much pride that Imayoshi can’t help wanting to destroy every last crumble of it. He wants him to beg and kneel again and then, maybe, _maybe_ he’ll listen to his deal.

The deal is simple, after all. Kise’s freedom in exchange for his. Kasamatsu is the general; he’s worth more than Kise is. Imayoshi knows that’s not true, but he can’t help laughing. That’s the desperate move of a desperate man. And still, Kaijou’s general always manages surprise him.

“He’s my friend first and my soldier second,” Kasamatsu says, answering Imayoshi’s unspoken question. 

There’s no need for a deal, after this. Imayoshi doesn’t give any explanation; he just brushes away Aomine’s protests and takes Kasamatsu to the tent where Kise is held. He leaves him alone.

“Stand up, Kise,” Kasamatsu says, kneeling in front of him, his hands gentle on his shoulders. Kise looks like he can’t believe he’s here, like he thought he would be tossed away. “I’m here to take you home.”

There’s something beautiful in the sound of Kasamatsu’s voice, to Kise. He manages to smile, trying to stand up even if his legs are broken and he’s not sure they will ever be all right. Kasamatsu hesitates for a moment and then helps him on his feet, bracing his shoulders and letting him lean against him. 

“Take me home, Yukio,” Kise manages to say. They limp away together.

*

“So it’s you, Tetsu.” 

Kuroko’s eyes don’t reflect any emotion as he holds the gun to Aomine’s nape as he lies down on the muddy ground. His hands tremble, but he blames it on the adrenaline that’s still flowing in his veins from the battle. 

It was exhausting, the battle. The most exhausting since forever, since Kuroko can recall – so, since he was a child; he can’t remember doing anything except fighting. Blood on his hands, mud on his clothes, always moving from one side to the other following Akashi’s orders. 

He’s not Midorima, who can be a doctor, he’s not Kise, who can always come up clean from the horrors they see, he’s not Akashi, who hold blades only to torture and never to kill, he’s not Aomine, who deeply enjoys what he does. Kuroko can’t save anyone, can’t be innocent anymore, can’t like what he does for a living.

“Yes,” he says, softly, the cold kiss of the metal on Aomine’s sun-kissed skin. He closes his eyes, fingering the trigger. “Yes, it’s me, Aomine-kun.”

He doesn’t look at the body, after the shot. He doesn’t look at anybody around; he doesn’t even look at Kagami, standing beside him. It’s Kagami who takes the gun away from his trembling hand, guiding him away from the people. It’s Kagami the one who holds him against his chest until he stops trembling and he just starts crying. 

“I don’t like it either, you know,” he murmurs, his lips close to the shell of Kuroko’s ear in the lightest of touches, and Kuroko allows himself to believe him, just for a moment.

“Just stay here,” he says, and Kagami nods. Kuroko is aware that this is the only reason he can still survive.

*

There was a time when they were friends. 

They knew it couldn’t last. They knew their world is a cruel one, one where you can’t afford any connection. 

Love, affection, they’re hindrances. You can’t kill the one you love; if the one you love is killed, you lose your focus. There’s a thin balance, for mercenaries, and that’s the basic rule, the one that Akashi spent days over, trying to make them get it, trying to make them hate him and their world and each other, to make sure they would survive in the world; killing Aomine’s passion, Kuroko’s dedication, Midorima’s precision and Kise’s joy. Killing them to make sure they’ll live.

Kuroko can’t help but wonder what went wrong; why all of them, in the end, fell in love with someone or something. He guesses it’s something that can’t be avoided, love, and that’s what saves them from being just weapons. 

He _does visit_ Akashi’s grave, however; Kise and Midorima go too, without telling anything, without speaking one to the other.

He bows, lighting some incense and looking intently at the dark stone for a moment, without closing his eyes.

“Let’s go, Taiga,” he says. His companion nods, extending his hand; Kuroko takes him after a moment of hesitation.

_See, Akashi-kun_ , he thinks, walking away in the quiet evening, _even we can find love, even in the time of war_.


End file.
